Towering trouble a litrp.., p.83
Towering Trouble: A LitRPG Isekai, page 83
“Well then who did send them?” asked Saskia. “You must know something.”
“Regrettably, Miss Wendle, I know less than you would think, for someone as well-connected as myself. Some of my contacts believe this is the work of the organisation known as the Unveilers. They have never resorted to violent means before, though, so I’m less than convinced.”
“Never heard of them.” She turned to Ivan. “Have you?”
Ivan shook his head.
“So, what, they want to unveil me?” she guessed. “Unite the world against the big bad aliens in their midst?”
“Something of that nature,” said Viktor. “They have been trying to unmask Mr Bitterbee for years, with little success.”
“How do they even know he exists? How do you? My father can literally erase himself from your memory—and from pictures or photographs, even. I wish I could do that. It would solve a lot of my problems.”
“I know Mr Bitterbee exists because he wills it. As for the Unveilers, one can only assume they have found a way to counter his power.”
“Anyone else you can think of who could be behind this?”
Viktor thought for a moment. “A foreign government, perhaps. Or your own government?”
“Yea—nope. That just sounds like paranoia to me. I mean, now they know I exist, sure they want to catch me. But before that, they had many opportunities to catch me without making a scene. They could’ve just quietly pulled a bag over my head when I walked through customs, before Padhra showed up to defend me.”
“There is also Mr Bitterbee’s old enemy,” said Viktor. “The one who calls himself The Ram.”
Behind her, Padhra muttered an oath.
“You know of him?” asked Saskia, speaking in the Lingya language.
“He has many names, Old One,” said Padhra. “My people, the Yagthumba, call him Ogunteng, the Infernal Spirit. In your tongue, the name translates, loosely, to devil. He is not just our enemy, but the enemy of all good people of the Earth.”
Saskia sucked in a breath. “Fantabulous. First an evil god, now a devil. Or maybe the Devil…”
Of course, this Ram, or Ogunteng, wasn’t really the biblical Devil, any more than she was really a goddess. He was probably just another one of her own kind. A rival undermind.
Viktor waited for them to finish, before continuing. “I do not know why The Ram would wish to expose you, though. Like Mr Bitterbee, The Ram prefers to hide in the shadows. Now that the world has seen that your kind exists, he will not have such an easy time staying hidden.”
Yeah, she had to agree with that. Underminds had managed to stay out of the public eye for untold centuries. Why throw it all away now, just to get at her? The Ram would likely have the means, but the motivation?
“Okay next question,” she said. “Who told you about the convention centre attack? Was it my father?” Ivan had already suggested it was, but she wanted to hear it from Viktor himself.
He nodded. “It was Mr Bitterbee. Or rather, one of his agents.”
“Are you one of his agents?”
Viktor shook his head. “I am a business partner. We have mutual interests. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
Saskia sat forward in her seat. “Do you know where I can find my father? I need to speak to him!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Wendle,” said Viktor. “That is one thing I cannot help you with. Mr Bitterbee is a very secretive man, as you well know. If he wants you to find him, then you will find him.”
“He’s had twenty four years to contact me or my mum, and in all that time, not a word from him,” she said bitterly. “So forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”
“That is quite understandable,” said Viktor. “Know that he is looking out for you, in his own way. To that end, I’ve invited you here to offer my assistance. I understand you want to get out of the country? I can help with that.”
“You can? Can you do fake passports and such?”
He laughed. “Of course, Miss Wendle. I have already seen to that. Though you should consider their limitations. They may fool the electronic scanners you would find at an airport, but there is the human element to consider. Your face is very recognisable. Even with a disguise, it would be a risk. I offer an alternative…” He gestured at the window.
Looking out the window, she saw pretty much the same view of the bay she’d seen from the balcony. “What am I looking at?”
Viktor grinned. She’d seen that same look on Ivan’s face many times. “What’s the biggest thing you can see out there on the water?”
“Some kinda superyacht, I guess? Looks super fancy…” She turned and stared at him. “That’s yours?”
“The Choven One,” said Viktor. “My pride and joy.”
“I thought I was your pride and joy, Dad,” said Ivan.
“If I had to choose between you or she…” Viktor tilted his hand sideways, before offering his son a mysterious smile.
“I’m sure there’s a meaning behind that name, other than the obvious,” said Saskia.
“Choven means boat in Ukrainian,” said Ivan.
“Oh.” She laughed. “Good one!”
“We must go to Lingyawon,” said Padhra. “Can you take us there?”
“I can take you as far as the coast of India,” said Viktor. “You will have to make your own way from there to Nepal.”
“India is a big country…” said Saskia.
“We can do it, Old One,” said Padhra. “I can get us across the border.”
“If you say so…” said Saskia dubiously. She turned to Viktor. “I do have one more request.”
“Ask,” said Viktor.
“My mum and my friends,” she said. “I can’t contact them without alerting all the wrong people. But maybe you could get word to them that I’m okay? Don’t tell them where I’m going, but let them know I’m safe, and not holed away in a government bunker somewhere.”
“Consider it done,” said Viktor. “One of my associates has the perfect excuse to speak to your game developer friends.”
Several pieces clicked into place in that moment. “Sergei Krasnov, the big investor in our company. He’s your guy, isn’t he?”
He nodded. “You are a sharp one. Yes, Sergei is an associate of mine.”
She’d long suspected Threadless Studios’ mysterious benefactor had ties to her father, but she hadn’t been able to figure out the precise nature of that link. Sergei himself had been elusive. Only Raji had met him, and the information she’d dug up about him online had provided few details beyond his various business dealings. No visible links to Viktor Storozhenko or Calbert Bitterbee, and presumably that was the whole point. Layers upon layers, and she didn’t know yet how deep the rabbit hole went.
“I won’t even ask why you did that,” said Saskia. “Obviously it was so you—and by extension, my dad—could keep tabs on me. I’m worried about my friends, though. Someone already used them to get to me. They may have used you too. If Ivan hadn’t driven me away at just the wrong time—if I’d been there when they showed up at the booth—I’d never have had to…do the thing I did.”
“You might also be dead,” pointed out Ivan.
“With Padhra watching out for me, and with my minim—with the other things I can do, I somehow doubt that. No, the timing seems awfully convenient.”
“I cannot pretend I have not had the same thoughts,” said Viktor. “Your father’s agents are trustworthy, but they are not omniscient. It is likely one of their sources betrayed them.”
Or maybe this was my father’s plan all along, she thought. Could he be behind all of this? “Anyhow, forcing me to expose myself to the world might have been their endgame. In that case, my mum and friends should be safe, because the damage has already been done. But I can’t just assume that. Is there anything we can do to protect them?”
“Sergei—and others—are already on the case.”
“I want details,” said Saskia. “Names, jobs, and how exactly they intend to keep them safe.”
“That is too long a discussion for this meeting. There will be time for that later, once we are away. Right now, we must prepare for the journey…”
She sighed. “I guess that’ll have to do. Thank you for everything, Mr Storozhenko.”
“It is no problem, Miss Wendle,” said Viktor. “This is just good business.”
“How much is my dad paying you?”
“Calbert’s currency is not measured in dollars,” said Viktor, flashing her a mysterious smile.
Not content to take him at his word, Saskia waited until she was out of sight, then leapt into Viktor’s head. Soon, she found herself eavesdropping on a phonecall he made to one of his ‘associates.’
The man he spoke to agreed to place some discrete security teams outside the homes of her mum and her friends. Curious, Saskia mentally leapt from Viktor’s head into that of the man on the other end of the phone.
She found him sitting on a swivel chair in a small, ramshackle office. It didn’t look like any government agency she’d heard of. A private security company, then? There was an emblem on the wall she didn’t recognise. She didn’t stick around to investigate further, because Ivan was pestering her to pick out some clothes and other gear to bring to the boat.
They boarded the Choven One that night, under cover of darkness, and set off early the next morning. Travelling on a superyacht wasn’t quite as luxurious as she’d imagined, mostly because she and Padhra spent the entire journey confined to their rooms, with the crew under strict instructions not to enter. Loose lips, and all that. Ivan or Viktor delivered their meals—which were, admittedly, sumptuous—while they did their own cleaning. Saskia spent her time watching movies, playing games, reading books and browsing the Internet via their satellite link. That was all fun and games for the first couple of days. By the fifteenth, she’d had enough. She had to be very careful about her browsing habits; couldn’t use email or social media; couldn’t work; couldn’t do anything except chill out.
It was torture.
By the time they finally arrived at the coast of India, Saskia was about ready to throw herself overboard. Which was just as well, because that was exactly what they were about to do.
Even here on the deck, in the fierce wind, Viktor still wore a suit. He shook her hand vigorously. “It has been a pleasure, Miss Wendle. Miss Melakhoba.” He looked at Ivan. “Keep her safe, my boy.”
“I will, Dad,” said Ivan. He stepped backward—and dropped over the edge, repelling down to the tiny dingy bobbing in the water, far below.
Saskia followed a moment later. She very nearly missed her step and took a dip in the icy water, but Ivan caught her rope and tugged it to the side, allowing her to preserve her dignity for a while longer. Then Padhra landed lightly beside her, and they were ready to go.
They paddled ashore under cover of darkness—though of course it wasn’t dark to Saskia’s oracle-enhanced eyes. It was a blustery night. Waves threatened to capsize their tiny raft at any moment, or dash them against rocks. So it was with great surprise when her feet set down upon the sands of India.
They had a lot of ground to cover. But if they were careful, and didn’t draw too much attention to themselves, they’d just look like any other group of foreigners passing through. Their destination: a reclusive temple on the slopes of Mount Sesayung, in eastern Nepal. A place with many secrets she’d only begun to plumb, and with a weapon or two she might deploy against her enemies, if they should come for her there.
Gazing back at the elegant curves of the Choven One, something compelled her to cast her consciousness back into the suit-clad figure standing on the upper deck, staring into the darkness with a phone to his ear.
“It is done,” said Viktor Storozhenko. “They are on their way, as safe and sound as can be expected, given the circumstances.”
Could he be speaking to her father? Probably not, but she had to know for certain. She dove into the head of the person at the other end of the phone—
Or, rather, tried to dive into his head. Instead, she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her temple. A violent tremor shook her body.
When it finally subsided, she was herself again. Padhra and Ivan were eyeing her with worried expressions.
“I’m okay,” she said, pulling her jacket tight against the howling wind and lashing waves. “Let’s get going.”
Book 3, Chapter 13: Krakura
Pop.
Pop pop.
Crackle pop pop.
Pop.
Pop crackle.
Saskia let out an exasperated sigh. “Please stop!”
Ruhildi blinked at her. Blinking no longer came naturally to the undead dwarf, so this was clearly a feigned expression of confusion. “Stop what, Sashki?”
“That thing you’re doing with your hand.”
Her friend looked at the splayed assemblage of twisted bones and dislocated joints that may, if one squinted hard enough, resemble a hand. After another teeth-grinding series of crackles and pops, the hand reverted into a more natural configuration.
“Don’t get grit up your butt,” said Ruhildi. “I were just practising.”
“Practising weirding me the hell out.”
It was safe to say that the novelty of her friend’s ‘condition’ had begun to wear off. Sure, being the walking dead had its definite advantages (for one thing, it made her really hard to kill), but there were times when Saskia would have given anything to have her old, living, breathing friend back. Well okay, Ruhildi could still breathe if she chose to, but it was no longer a biological necessity. She tried to tell herself that as long as her friend was happy, that was the most important thing. And Ruhildi genuinely seemed to be having the time of her (un)life. It was just…ugh…so damn creepy!
“Mayhap I could grow claws like yours,” said Ruhildi.
Saskia groaned.
Ruhildi gave the dwarven equivalent of an eye-roll. “Alright, I’ll stop plucking your petals, och sweet flower trow.”
“Princess just being princess,” said Rover Dog. The troll sat at the back of the cabin, slicing open his hand and using it to paint a strange pattern across a strip of cloth. What was up with that?
“To be true, this ability might save your life one day, so ’tis worth perfecting,” said Ruhildi. “But I’ll give your eyes and ears a rest. I ken how unsettling this must be to you. If I weren’t already a necrourgist, I amn’t sure I’d have coped with the change.”
“Actually, I think it was only the fact that you’re a necrourgist that allowed it to happen in the first place,” said Saskia. “This is like…your final form. Garrain became a tree, Nuille an otter, and you…died. I’m half expecting Kveld to turn to stone and Zarie to turn into…I don’t know, a stormcloud, or something.”
“I can already turn to stone, with the obsidian form spell,” pointed out Kveld, who was sitting at the front of the cabin with Zarie.
“I hope I don’t change form,” said the tempest, running a hand across the white-and-blue skin of her breast. “I like my body the way it is.”
Kveld reddened. Apparently he too liked her body just the way it was.
A thunderous growl sounded from the jagged hills below. Peering out between the dragon’s ribs, she could see an enormous form sitting on a flat rock, eyeing them hungrily. It was shaped vaguely like a troll, but with a smaller head, and dark fur. Also about ten times as large.
“Behemoth,” said Rover Dog. “Avoid.”
“Yeah, because I was planning to jump down and pet it,” said Saskia.
“Never can be sure with Sashki,” said Ruhildi.
The behemoths were just the latest entry in a long list of things that would best be avoided in this land of nope—some of which Rover Dog had described to her, and others she’d witnessed first-hand. Creatures with paralysing bites and stingers and poisonous spit. Snakes as fat as a car; spiders as big as a dog. Immense flightless birds that tore apart prey—and smaller predators—with vicious serrated beaks and scythe-like talons.
Then there were the slithering lumps of yuck that piled onto their hapless victims, dissolving their flesh in seconds. They were the closest things she’d seen to the slimes from games she’d played on Earth, but they weren’t green, and the cute little video game jellies didn’t come close to the true horror of watching these things feed.
Even the plants had meat on the menu. Step in the wrong spot, and it’d be game over: crushed between giant pincer leaves, or dissolved in a pool of digestive juices.
Worse, some of the rocky, grass-covered hills she spotted in the distance…weren’t hills. She’d seen them move, extending great spindly pincers to snatch unwary beasts that ventured too close to their waiting maws.
Welcome to Krakura, she thought. Please don’t feed the wildlife.
Deep in these untamed lands lay one of her father’s bases of operations: a site called the Night’s Dream. It was the only such site shown on the keystone’s map of Grongarg, so it had seemed like a good place to visit in their search for answers.
Now, as they drew close to the spot where it had been marked, Saskia was beginning to have second thoughts.
“I really don’t think we should be landing here,” she said. “This dragon isn’t exactly stealthy. We’ll draw every predator within a ten kilometre radius. There’ll be corpses piled higher than Mr Underhill over there.” She pointed at the hill-sized crab monster. “Unless Mr Underhill joins in. Then it’ll be our corpses piled in his stomach.”
“Not problem,” said Rover Dog. “Land in Firespring.”
“Firespring? What is that?”
“Sacred place. Big walls. Neutral ground, shared by all queendoms. Home of scouring pools.”
Saskia frowned. “Wait…scouring pools? Where trow royals go to melt their skin off?” She gave a little shudder.
Rover Dog nodded. “It grow back smooth, hard, strong.” A grin spread across his face. “Princess shell already strong, but scouring pools make smoother.”
Saskia’s eyes narrowed. After she’d pointed out the location of the Night’s Dream, Rover Dog had been awfully quick to suggest they come here next.
